The Phantom's Shadow
by Inspired Demon of Fiction
Summary: We all know his story, but how about an insiders look? The untold story of one who was with the genius to the very end. Starts: before book, ends: not sure yet. I promise EC, this is NOT a marysue. Story mostly movie based with some made up history.
1. My name is Deirdre

The Phantom's Shadow

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the computer where I sit and write this ;)

A/N: I sat down one day and thought: 'Hey, I think it's time you wrote another fanfic.' Great…well anyway, so I did. This little imagination of mind has been playing with and hinting at the idea of a behind-the-scenes account of the "Phantom Of The Opera", brought to you by none other than my character of choice, me! But before you give up let me tell you, this is not, I repeat, NOT a Mary-Sue, and it will never become a Mary Sue as long as I have anything to say about it. I would die before I wrote something that wasn't strictly EC. Anyway, so here it is, enjoy!

…Prologue…

And there I was, just like I'd always been: alone. That probably doesn't make much sense to you right now, but don't worry, when I've finished my tale you'll know all about that little phrase, oh yes. You see, I was _there,_ I mean really _there_! Even before he met Christine I was there. Well, okay maybe not that early. I'm definitely not old enough, however, I _did_ witness the Phantom's story, I _did_ personally know him, and I _did_ live in that very Opera house, in his lair in fact. Sure, you don't believe me now, but we'll just see what you say when I'm done. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself. We should probably start at the begging, or at least, _my_ beginning…

…Chapter One…

'My name is… my name is…' For what seemed an eternity, that's all I thought about, 'What is my name?' I wondered. 'Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.' my other self scolded me harshly; 'You can't even remember your own name!' 'Yes I can!' I thought, 'it's…it's…' "Deirdre," I whispered aloud. "My name is Deirdre." I wanted to remember my name, it's all I had left now. You see, my family had moved and forgotten me. Yes you heard right, not 'I ran away', not 'abandoned' forgotten. I'm nine years old, one of 13 other children, and the youngest, but my mother's expecting. What was my mother's name? I couldn't remember. I didn't want to remember, she had never been kind to me, my father I never saw, my siblings if any of them said anything to me it was always the same 'Look you little brat, if you want to stay alive then fend for yourself and don't let anything hurt you.' I suppose they thought it was good advice and that they were being kind, but cold, ruthless reality did not bode well with a small, cold, malnourished nine year old weakling that was so utterly sensitive and emotional she was almost unbearable to behold. Currently, I laid in a gutter on one of the dark streets in downtown London. I remember that night well, for it was just about at this point that the tougher side in me, the rebel, burst forth and told my inner self to shut up and stop sniveling. 'We are going to live. We are going to get out of this place if it's the last thing I do!' 'Which it might,' I mumbled. So, under the influence of my rebel, I stumbled along the wet streets, toward the channel. Why my feet lead me there, to this day I still do not know, but just as dawn was breaking, I found my self on the sand of the edge of the frigid dark channel. At the time, I had not known where I was or that this was the English Channel and that across from it lay France. I only knew that if I got across the water, I would be away from here, this place that had been my cruel home for nine years, well no more! I had made up my mind, I was going to get across the water…somehow!

So how bout it? Good? Bad? Exciting? Boring? Sad? Happy? Tell me! I must know!


	2. The Escape Ship

Disclaimer: Once again, I own absolutely nothing. If I did own something, do you think I would be here?

A/N: I promise we will eventually meet Phantom, but it is necessary to give boring backstory in everything, even in 'Phantom'. I am trying hard to get to France and the Opera Populaire as quickly as possible though.

…Chapter Two…

The next morning I woke up with sand in my mouth, hair and eyes. I sat up. 'Where am I?' I thought, then I remembered the events of last night. 'Oh no…'it suddenly hit me that I was totally on my own and alone in the world with no money and no friends to speak of. Being that the inevitable loneliness had come crashing down sooner than expected, I began to cry. 'Now stop that,' the rebel thought, but even her voice broke and began to sob. Though I tried not to admit it, I honestly didn't have a clue what to do now. I couldn't let myself believe that though. If I believed it, then I would surely die of fear. It was then that I looked up and noticed a rather large boat docking not too far away. In a stroke of unseen brilliance, I crept up to the dock silently as though the rags that I wore were not there. I hid behind a wooden pillar and listened to the following conversation. "So she'll be here for how long?" a pompous man in a powdered wig asked. He was fat and wore spectacles that would have certainly fallen off of his nonexistent nose if not for his elephant sized ears. "Jes' fer' a couple a' hours," answered who I assumed to be the ships captain. He was taller than the other man, with a bristly red beard and a slurred Welsh accent as a result of too much liquor. "Very well then. I'll be needing a nine pence from you before you shove off then." "Fine, fine." The captain reached into his pocket and retrieved a bulging bag of gold coins. "Here," he tossed the bag to the other man. As the bag flew, a few unnoticed coins jumped out, I had to bite my hand to keep from snatching them and blowing my cover. "Cheers," said the pompous man and with that sauntered off with his stubby nose held in the air. Behind his back the captain suggested to the man that he was number 'one' on his list. The captain then skulked off to one off the bars. As soon as he entered the door I quit watching him and dove at the coins still laying there. I gulped and stood up, glancing around to make sure no one had seen me. No one had, I sighed in relief. Opening my tightly closed fist, I gazed upon my newly found treasure: 3 small, gold coins. What a bounty, well as small as it was, it was more than I had ever seen in my life, which wasn't saying much. I then wondered on how to escape my prison and on to the ship. I looked around again, evidently everyone was taking the liberty of a break at this pit stop, for I saw no one as I walked around to the front of the boat. Yes, I was in luck, as I had hoped, no guards and the gangplank still lowered. I took a deep breath and started up the wooden ramp. It wasn't long before I cast a woeful, pitying look over my shoulder at my once home. After that last look, I climbed the rest of the way up and never looked back until I had made it to the other side of the channel.


	3. The Farmer and his Cart

Disclaimer: I own…the plot line, Deirdre, and a dysfunctional copy of "The Phantom of the Opera". I have no life.

A/N: Because I am a fruit and because I read way too much Tolkien I have decided to try to make the times and distances as accurate as possible. Therefore, all of the given measurements should be a fair guess as to how long this would have actually taken. I am buying myself time here people, so don't kill me yet.

…Chapter 3…

I awoke to the gentle rocking of waves against a ship. I smiled to myself, my luck had held out and I hadn't been discovered during the night. I had hid myself cleverly in a rope pile and prayed for at least an hour that I wouldn't be discovered. Apparently, God had been listening. I quietly got up and walked down to the edge of the ship where a rope was tied to the dock. This time there wasn't gangplank so I shimmied down the rope as best as I could. I jumped to the ground and stood up. This new place didn't look too different, there were the same plants, the same animals, the same smells and sights, but it felt different. I walked down to the edge of the beach where the road started and bit my lip. I didn't know the first thing to do now that I was on my own. There was a sign, but I couldn't read it, I couldn't have read it if it was in giant bold letters, I never learned. I gulped and tried to keep from bursting into shaken sobs as I looked up and down the road again. I was just about to panic when a cart came down the path. I was so happy to find a person, I didn't stop to think about the danger I could be putting myself in. I ran up to the cart. It was driven by an older man who had smiling eyes and a warm smile while he whistled. He was adorned in a straw hat and the beast that drove his wagon was a kindly old mare with a gray muzzle. I soon reached the cart and when he saw me he halted the mare. "Whoa, old girl. We're in no hurry," he spoke to the nag who turned and whickered at him, before turning to me. "Well, hello there. What are you doing here alone? Where are your parents?" I couldn't speak for fear of crying, so I pointed at the docks. "They're on the boat?" he asked. I shook my head and pointed farther, toward the other side. "Oh…" the man frowned in recognition. "You run away?" he asked gently. I shook my head again, still unable to speak. "They leave you here?" I shook my head again. "Well then, what happened?" he looked me worriedly. I looked at the ground and hid my face from him. "They forgot me," I mumbled. "What's that?" he bent closer to hear me. I began to cry "Back there, they forgot me. So I left." I blurted out the truth as fast as I could and looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. "Oh, poor child…" he picked me up and set me on his lap. "There now." He said cradling me. "It's okay now. Shhh…" I cried into his chest and he started up the cart. "Here now, we'll go to my house until I can figure out what to do with you." Then he added, more to himself than me, "Though I don't know what the missus is going to say when she sees this." And with that, I started on the journey that would eventually take me to my new home.

Yeah, I know it's short, but the next one will be longer, I think…;)


	4. Mary and Francis

Disclaimer: I know my disclaimers have been immensely on the lame side thus far, and guess what? They are probably going to stay that way. Once again…I own nothing! Honestly!

A/N: I know my chapters are short and hard to read, but if you give me some reviews, maybe I'll double space them…Anyways, please humor me and tell me what you think, I'd hate to write something no one cares about. Also, I know this intro I staking forever, but I am trying to speed things up, while trying to think of what comes next. Pretty please don't hate me for the excruciatingly detailed, boring backstory later, it will come back to haunt her though, I hope. shifty eyes ;)

Author's _Other_ Note: written in third person because Deidre is asleep and therefore would not have bared witness to any of these events.

…Chapter 4…

"Oh, Mary! Look what I've brought home," a farmer returns home. "It had better be something useful this time," called the wife, who was Mary. "Oh, I think she'll prove to be useful, or at least sweet." The farmer hung his hat on the coat stand and stood in the center room. "Did you just say she?" Mary walked in drying her hands, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the sleeping girl in her husband's arms. "Oh Francis! Who's is she?" "Shhh…she's sleeping. Apparently her parents are in England and forgot her." He handed the sleeping child to his wife. She gasped at this new bit of information. "Oh how could they? That's so cruel. And look at her! She's skin and bones, poor thing and in tatters too." She carried the girl upstairs to the spare bedroom. "Should we keep her?" she asked her husband. "I don't know. We'll ask her if she wants to stay when she wakes up." "Well she can't be left alone! She's much too young and in no condition to even wander the streets alone." "I know, that's why I brought her home." "Well, nothing can be done tonight. We'll just wait for her to wake up." Francis nodded and followed his wife downstairs. Deirdre, it seemed, had a new family.

Yes, I know it's an extremely short chapter, but the next one will hopefully be longer!


	5. What's Opera?

Disclaimer: Do I need to say it again? I…own…NOTHING! Can I make it any plainer? Here I'll do hand puppets…okay, maybe I won't. ;)

A/N: If anyone is reading this, I will try to get to the Opera House as quickly as possible, but right now, the timing is really becoming an issue. If any of you know the years that the story goes on, could you pretty, pretty please tell me? Thanks bunches! And please review me!

…Chapter 5…

I woke up in a strange room, on a strange bed, in a strange house that had unfamiliarity screaming at me from the very walls I stared at. I would have screamed in fright if not for the greater fright of what would happen if anyone heard me. After a matter of minutes, I decided it was safe and got up and went to the window. I gasped; I could see chickens, cows, and rows and rows of varying kinds of vegetables. I wondered now where I was and why I was here. The last thing I remembered was being held by the man in the cart while he drove. Then a thought a struck me, 'Is this his house? Did he bring me to his home? If so why? If not, then exactly _where_ am I?' I decided that if I was going to find out _anything_, I had better get out of the room. I opened the slightly open door and walked down the hallway that led to the stairs that just last night Mary and Francis had walked down.

…In The Kitchen…

"I see that old Harold has won the latest horse race, again." Francis threw down the paper, finding nothing of interest he got up and went to stand next to his wife who was busy at the stove fixing eggs and bacon for breakfast. "Hmmm….That's very interesting dear." She was totally absorbed in her cooking. "I wonder if the child is up yet," Francis stroked his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. At this Mary's attention snapped to her husband, "Well, why don't you go see?" "No need, she's right here," he looked down at the little girl with a smile and said warmly. "Well, hello little one. How are you? Would you like some breakfast?" I nodded, all this time, I had still to speak a word. I licked my lips as I smelled my very first warm meal in years. I watched with an almost awed expression as she put heaping piles of bacon on a plate and great mounds of scrambled eggs next to it. To top it all off, she placed a huge glass of milk, probably fresh, to the side. I stared at the banquet for a long moment before glancing back at the pair with pleading eyes. "Oh sweet child," the woman picked me up and set me on the chair. "Here go on, eat." I smiled up at her and immediately started gulping down the food as quickly as possible, not even bothering with utensils. I must have looked quite astonishing for when I turned back to them, they both had wide eyed expressions of great amusement. "Well, I thought my cooking was fair, but I never thought it was _that_ good." The woman chuckled to herself. "So, young one, what are you doing here?" She sat down next to me and gently placed her hand on my arm. At that thought, tears began to well up in my eyes again. "It's okay…it's okay, don't cry," I could hear them comforting me, but it didn't help. Nothing ever helped when I wanted to cry. Finally, I haltingly began my story. "Back…back a-across the water, that's where I lived," I sniffed and continued. "I was the youngest of thirt-teen children, my ma hated me and then one day they all left and forgot me…" I paused to angrily rub a fresh tear away. "So, so then I…I left. I got on a big boat and came here…Where is here?" I looked up at them. "This is France, the city of Cherbourg to be exact. From the sound of it, you were somewhere in England." The man paused before continuing, "The water you crossed was the English Channel. Child, what's your name?" "Deirdre," I answered, "My name is Deirdre." "I see, well then Deirdre, do you have anywhere to go?" I thought, I didn't know anything about France, I barely knew what France was. However, one day I had been hanging around some of the older children and overheard them talking about a new 'Opera House' in France. They said it was going to be the grandest in history, I had been about 3 at the time and I still have no idea why I remember that little piece of information, until now, it had seemed totally irrelevant. However, I was 9 years old and even as young as I was, I knew several things that some people never learn, like be grateful for the little you have, but more importantly I knew that I would never get a job at the Opera, even if I knew what 'opera' was. "No", I finally answered, "but I did hear about an Opera House here. What's opera? And why does it need a house?" The couple glanced at each other. Now, the Phantom was fairly well known, but this is still before Christine, or at least no one knows he's involved with her yet. "Opera is an art form in which people sing and dance and act. It's lots of fun to see, but a lot of work to be in," the wife now set about cleaning up what had been my breakfast. "Mary here," the man said to me in a low voice",used to be a ballerina at the old Opera House, but left when they built this new one." "Oh," I said, "Can I got to the Opera House and become a ballerina too?" "Certainly not." Said Mary briskly, "you're far too young. And if you were old enough, you'd have to have had years of practice to get in. It's impossible to make it as a ballerina in an opera house." "Oh," I said again. "Then, can I do something else at the Opera House?" "I'm sure you can, but not right now. You're still very, very young." Mary seemed to think that was the end of the discussion, but the man was scratching his ear thoughtfully. "Now Mary, I start on my monthly trip to Paris tomorrow. I could probably rake Deirdre along and get her an apprenticeship there to be a chorus girl or stage hand, or some such other job." I grinned childishly up at the man. "Chorus girl? Stage hand? You honestly think that they'd let her do that? At her age? It isn't safe!" "Now, now," he held up a hand to silence her. "Last I heard, they were accepting anyone over the age of 9." He turned to me. "Deirdre, now old are you?" I grinned and said proudly, "Nine and one half!" Okay, so maybe the half was a lie, but no one could prove otherwise. "Well there you are." "But Francis-!" "Mary, she'll be fine. I bet Madame Giry is still there, she'll look after Deirdre for us." "But, but!" "Miss Mary," I spoke up, "Could I please go? I promise that I'll be good and won't get into any trouble." I had often heard my older sisters say this to beg Ma to let them go somewhere, they were always lying though, 'cause I watched them. "Oh…fine. But promise me you'll be careful." "I promise!" At the time, I had had every intention of fulfilling that promise, but as luck would have it, fate had other plans, as usual. "Very well then. Now why don't you go play outside?" I ran through the doors and into the sunlight, I was going to the opera!


	6. The Paris Opera House

Disclaimer: I own…several pictures of Gerik, but I still don't own a functional copy of the blasted movie. (And I still don't own the book)So, if I owned POTO, don't you think I'd at least own a copy of the book?

A/N: To the people reading this, THANK YOU! I swear the reviews are the only bright part of my day. I send all of you lots and lots of Hershey's kisses and food and copies of the DVD. Anyway, presently everyone speaks English, later they'll speak in French and Deirdre won't understand, so then I'll have to translate, but I don't know French at all, so there won't be much of it. Anyway, I PROMISE if we don't see Erik in this chappie, he will be in the next one. And I will double space it now so all of you can actually read it. I always forget that it's harder to read on ff then it is on my comp. screen.  Anyways, be gone undouble-spacedness!

Aah…much better.

…Chapter 6…

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mary asked for the hundredth time. It was the morning of the rest of my life. Overnight, she had made several new pieces of clothing, which I was ecstatic about since I had never had much more than that I wore on my back. She had also made me a teddy-bear named Art and packed us lots of food to keep us for the week-long journey. "I'm sure," I said again. To tell you the truth, with each time she asked that question I began to feel less and less comfortable and more and more anxious. My previous adventure on the boat had been quite exciting enough, was I really ready to give up the only family I'd ever known? Apparently I was, because at that moment the cart which I was now sitting in began to move. I awoke from my thoughts and looked back at the old friendly farm one last time, I would miss the little time I had had there. Little did I know that in the years to come I would often use that last fleeting image as a comfort to me. Presently I turned my head and looked out to the road that lead to the Paris Opera Populaire.

…Sometime Later…

"Deirdre?" I stirred from my gazing at the slowly moving countryside to look at Francis. "Yes?" "Child, do you know any French?" I shook my head, how would I know French? "Aah…that's what I thought. Well dear, in Paris most people speak French. You should probably learn some." "Okay. Teach me." "Oh no child, I can't teach you," he jerked the reins a little so that we would pick up the pace. "I'm not fluent. I only know a little in case anyone comes down to trade at the coast. Ask Madame Giry to teach you." "Who's Madame Giry?" I asked. He chuckled a little. "The ballet mistress at the opera. I believe her daughter is also there." "Oh," I didn't find most of the information relevant, being I didn't understand it, but I did no that ballet was a graceful dance that young women did. I learned a lot of stuff like that from spying on my older siblings. "Whoa," Francis stopped us at a little inn at the edge of the road. We slept there that night and the next day was much the same. For the remainder of the journey, we talked about things I may need to know, like which dormitories to sleep in and who to stay away from (though the Phantom was never mentioned). We paused to eat and sleep and carried on the next day. Finally, at the end of the week, we cam into a bustling city filled with new sights and sounds and smells, but one stood out above all. Just off to the horizon off the canter of the city, where I stood, was a huge, looming, beautiful building painted in gold and shining like a star. "That.," Francis whispered in my ear, seeing where I stared wide-eyed and tongue wagging, "is the Opera Populaire." I gulped, I had never dreamt of something so colossal. We rode right up to the front of it and Francis stepped down. He came around the other side and helped me down, then he went to the back and fetched my two small luggage cases. Handing one to me, he walked in purposefully and I had no choice but to follow. I walked in and stopped dead in awe. It was even more gorgeous on the inside, the sculputures, the paintings, even the tiles of the florr were perfectly and artistically arranged and designed that they would bring a man to his knees in prayer. "Come on," Francis grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me down hallway after hallway until I found myself in a large auditorium where several singers and dancers were practicing their latest play. I looked up and saw a glittering chandelier (_the_ chandelier my friends, _the_ chandelier) it was at least twice the height of a man and several times his width. I gazed around some more at the red velvet boxes. In one of them, for a moment, I thought I saw a figure in the shadows, but when I blinked the figure was gone, so I assumed it to be a figure of my imagination. It was then I heard it, "Francis?" a woman shouted over the commotion of the rehearsals in a thick French accent. "Francis, is that you?" "Bridgette Giry!" Francis called happily to an older woman who appeared to be an instructor of sorts. She soon came running over to us. "Oh, Francis it's so good to see you! Is Mary here too?" "No, she couldn't make it, but she said to send her love and…" he lowered his voice and said something quickly in French, which I didn't understand. But apparently Madame Giry did because she burst out laughing as soon as he said it. "Tell her," she said something back to hi ih French and he smiled. "She said you'd say that." "And who's this?" asked the mistress, who was now looking me over. Francis turned to me, "This is Deirdre." I gulped and smiled in what I hoped was a cheerful way, though it may have been more of a grimace being that I was rather nervous to be in such a big place with so many people. "Hello dear," she smiled at me and offered her hand. I took it. "Strong grip," she said when we let go. "did you ever consider joining the opera as a dancer or stage hand?" "Well actually Bridgette, that's why she's here. She would like a job if you have any available." "Why of course we do. But shouldn't her parents be here?" I hang my head. "Umm…Bridgette, her family forgot her. They're in England and she ran away after they forgot her." "Oh you poor child," she lifted my face up and smiled. I however, hated talking about my past and was about ready to cry. "Oh, Deirdre, don't cry. Shh…it's behind you now, it's okay." She hugged me to her and I sniffled a little in her shoulder. "Now then, what do you ant to do? Do you want to sing or dance?" I shrugged. I didn't have much rhythm, but I didn't know if I could sing, I had never tried. However, I loved music. Whenever I could, I would listen to the music floating from the nearest troubadour or carnival. A sudden idea struck me, "Can I do both?" I asked. She smiled, "Of course you can, you'll be a chorus girl. But just because you're the youngest here, don't expect to be treated any differently. Well, Francis, I can take care of her now. Is that all you wanted to see me for?" "Yes that's it. Bye now Deirdre, and remember to be careful and to watch out for yourself. Now come give me a good-bye hug." I ran up to him and threw my arms around his neck. "Bye Francis" I whispered and then left got my bags, and followed Madame Giry. I had done it, I was now proudly part of the Opera Populaire, the new page of my life.

So whaddaya think? I know I promised we'd see Erik in this one, but I think this chapter is long enough already. So it'll be in the next chappie which I will start writing ASAP!


	7. Down We Plunge!

Disclaimer: Okay…I actually _do_ own something this time. My pen. There I confess, I do in fact own my pen. Three guesses what I _don't_ own.

A/N: Okay, I'm almost 100 sure this will have Erik in it. I'm just kidding, I'm just as anxious to see him as you are believe me, my other personalities are driving me crazy! Sorry, anyway he _will_ be here and if he isn't, may I be flamed and never write in this story again. (So lets' hope he's here, huh?)

…Chapter 7…

For the rest of that day, Madame Giry showed me everyone and everything. There was so much to remember it was making my head spin. I did however always remember to keep walking and to always be courteous and to suck up to Prima Donnas like La Carlotta. I even managed to remember my name as well as the way to the dormitories. When the heavily detailed tour ended, I flopped down on my bed, but my relaxation was soon interrupted. "Deirdre, before you fall to sleep just one last thing," Madame Giry poked her head in. "Yes Madame Giry?" She paused as if trying to decide something. "Dinner's at 7. Do you remember where the kitchen is?" "Yes, Madame," "Good, good evening then." "Good evening, Madame," I had quickly learned to always address a superior as Madame or Masseur. Unless of course it was Carlotta, which you had to address as Senora or Prima Donna, but always mutter something nasty under your breath afterwards. I picked it up from Madame Giry herself. As it was only 6 o'clock I decided that it would be safe to explore my new home a bit before dinner. Having thought of this, I opened the door of my room and began wandering down the halls. I wandered around everywhere, sometimes I saw people going into costume or make-up, down another hall I would hear people practicing scenes, through an arch way and I hear people rehearsing and Madame Giry and Masseur Reyer shouting. Eventually, I started to wander down halls with no people and no sounds. Down a few of these such hallways I found more and more gorgeous paintings and tapestries. After awhile I ran into a dead end with a very peculiar looking inscription on one side of it. It was so hard to read as I peered at it, that I had to grab a candle to even see what the characters were. Though I still didn't know how to read, I could tell that it was English rather than French, though the characters at the time meant nothing to. (This is what I later would find out it said: _Be warned all of ye who came here, for beyond this mirror you will find both wonders and horrors beyond your imagination_.) I turned around from the placard and found a very ornately decorated, full-length mirror staring back at me. As I admired the exquisite architecture of it, I noticed something that seemed out of place. Off to one side was a slight gap between the border and the glass. Being very curious (ill-warned about the dangers of this Opera House) I stuck my fingers inside and tried to pry the gap wider, to my surprise the glass moved to the other side with out too much force from me. I stuck my head inside and looked around; I was met by nothing but a very long, very dark, and very imagination-spurring hallway. I pushed the glass all the way over and grabbed the candle I had used earlier; I then took a deep breath and stepped through the threshold into darkness. I decided that I was going to find out where this mysterious tunnel led. I walked farther in with out even closing the glass behind me. (Little did I know that I was sealing my fate.) I walked in farther and farther, but I didn't seem to be getting any closer to the end of the darkness. After a long while, a sensation of fear began to creep over me, but I brushed it aside. (Had I listened to it, I can bet you that I would never have met my now good friend and teacher.) I walked for what seemed hours, but I eventually began to see a slight light at the end of the passage. By now, the hall had started to slowly descend into the pit of the earth. I began to wonder why an already huge Opera House would need underground levels, but I supposed that it did. The light became stronger and I eventually reached the corner where it seemed to be coming from. As I rounded the corner, I ran smack dab into a great black horse. At first, I didn't know who was more startled, me or the horse, but he seemed to recover first because he whickered gently at me. I gulped and carefully walked up to him. He stretched his nose to me and I petted him gently. I didn't know much about horses, but I sure thought they were pretty. After a little bit I walked on, feeling a little bit more secure, but just then another wave of fear swept over me, stronger than the last one. I still shrugged it off, but it seemed to linger in the back of my mind this time. It was then that I reached the end of the hallway, I saw a great river, but I could just make out the end of it. (Please note that the boat was NOT there which as we all know means two things: 1) Phantom's in his lair, or 2) he is not in the Opera House at all, or 3) I guess, he didn't use the boat to get where ever he was going.) My mind was telling to go back as fast as my legs could carry me, but my heart was telling me to see this to the end. As usual, my heart won out and after placing the candle on the edge, I dove into the water without a second thought. I soon found out two things, a) the water was frigid(!) and b) it was not as deep as it looked (ow…). I gasped as I returned to the surface and grabbed the candle now that I knew I could walk through it. My mind sent another urgent warning call of fear through my nerves, this time it was powerful enough to make me stop walking and shiver, or was that from the cold? Either way I kept trudging, shivering worse and worse with each step. Finally I reached the end…which was a very large gate with no lever that I could see. I frowned, I didn't com all this way to end in a dead end. Hoping against hope that I had an idea, I sacrificed my candle and dove under water. Ah, ha! Just as I suspected, the water did indeed get deeper, but the gate didn't quite reach the bottom, there was a gap! I returned to the surface, now a little less bright since my candle had gone out. I took a deep breath and plunged back down. Feeling around for the end of the gate, I held on to it and shoved myself through the other side. I choked gasping for air, I splashed through the surface, I had made it! I crawled up onto the side of the river, panting. For awhile I simply lay there with my eyes closed, shivering uncontrollably. I sniffled and pushed myself up to look around. I gasped. All around me everywhere was undeniable beauty. There were candles and black and red drapes and canvases, dolls, models, and drawings of a very beautiful figure. Off to the side was a striking black swan bed with red sheets. And in the center of it all, covered in papers and red roses with black ribbons and an aurora of light seeming to shine from it, a huge black pipe organ. The keys were like porcelain and ebony, the wood a rich, black, mahogany, the pipes swirling up the brick wall like vines of roses. My mouth dropped open in awe at how any man could make something so divine. I longed to touch it, to hear it played, but at the same time it was the last thing I wanted. I suddenly remembered the last time I heard a pipe organ, it had been for a funeral and sense then I had always associated the thing with fear and death. I now blinked wearily around at the rest of my surroundings. I found long drapes covering something. Once again, my evil curiosity took over and I walked up to the drapes and gently pulled them off of whatever they were hiding. I saw threes full-length mirrors, not unlike the one I had used to get down here. I looked at each in turn. I carefully inspected the first, it appeared to be nearly identical to the other, it gave me a strange eerie feeling, like I was being watched, but when I turned I saw no one, so I passed it off as merely my over-active imagination. I studied the next one, but that eerie feeling persisted. It was once again identical. I finally turned to the third and final mirror, but before I could study it I found someone else in the mirror beside me! I turned and found a very tall, very dark and very ominous man in a white mask looming over me with a hatred so strong I thought it would scald me. I looked into his eyes and found anger, surprise, and was it fear? I didn't have a chance to take a second look because his eyes were the last thing I remembered before I blacked out.

YES! I did it! I finally got Erik here! God, that took more time than it should have, but oh well. So nun-ya, to all y'alls who thought I wouldn't do it. I'll get right on the next chappie just as soon as I post this one so pretty please review! Oh, you guys should probably know that at this time, Christine is 12, I'm 9, oops I mean Deirdre is 9, and Erik is…lets say 18? I don't want to make the age gap too big, but he obviously has to be at least a couple years older than Christine, so yeah I think 18 is a good age. To all who review me, you will be rewarded by another Erik chappie, to those who don't review me, you won't be reading this so curse you and doom on you!


	8. The Opera Ghost

Disclaimer: I own nothing. However I do own my soul, which rather comes as a surprise to me, since I believed I was doomed for hell a _looong_ time ago.

A/N: I've been trying to decide how to play out Erik's reaction, so I'm terribly sorry if this took forever to post. I'm missing a few of my guinea pigs, I mean friends that I usually try out my new ideas on. They got to go to the Tetons while I'm stuck here…(grumbles something about deserving to go but not getting to because of 'depression issues' apparently.) Anyway, to my reviewers, thanks bunches! I really need the feed back, or I won't know what to do next! I was afraid that if I didn't get any reviews, I would take this story off, so be glad you reviewed! So, let's see if I can keep this up…

…Chapter 8…

I awoke to find myself lying on my back with my eyes closed. I tried to turn to my side, but found that my hands and feet were both bound tightly with a coarse, thick rope. I opened my eyes. I stared up at a cold, dark ceiling that I had never seen before. I blinked and turned my head. To my left, I saw a pool of water with the gate I had swam under at the end. I suddenly began to remember what I had done and instantly regretted ever finding that bloody mirror. As I turned to my right, I noticed a soft, sweet sound of the most beautiful music in the world drifting towards my ears. For a moment I forgot my problematic predicament and focused only on that sound which seemed to say that I was being silly worrying and should instead dream of beautiful and wondrous things, I was about to drift into a peaceful slumber when it stopped and I jarred back to cold reality. I looked to the right and found the man from before stand up from the organ that I mentioned, and turn around. He saw that I was awake and gave me a malicious smirk and sauntered gracefully towards me. As he came into sharper relief, I noticed that he was still wearing the white mask I had seen before. _'Why does he wear it? What's he hiding for?' _I wondered, but whatever other thoughts that came to me were banished as he began to speak.

"So…the little spy is awake, is she?" He drew even nearer and bent down to look me in the eye. His voice had been smooth, but the he had spat the words at me and his tone gave me the underlying sense that he had powers beyond any I'd ever seen. However, if I'd thought his voice was chilling, his eyes would have frozen me to the soul. Those eyes…I remember them clearly, the were a cold, dark gray and seemed to glow with that hidden power. Now, they clearly expressed to me his utter, hatred, rage, and once again, I thought fear was there, but I wasn't sure.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he whispered the inquiries, but it felt like he was shouting at me for all the fear he inspired. I gulped and bit my lip, willing myself to be strong and not start crying again. He grabbed the back of my hair and pulled my head back so that I couldn't look away, "Who are you!" This time he really did shout, and I just couldn't bear to look at him anymore, but I had no choice, so I the tears began to fall. He let go of me, seemingly disgusted. I shook violently through the sobs that raked my body. I wanted to run away and hide; I wanted to be back with Francis and Mary. Thinking of them, I sobbed even harder. This man was cruel, he had stolen from me the privilege of the shadows, for it was in the shadows that I felt most at home, it was there that I could be myself. I hated this man, but I knew I could do nothing to help my situation except to answer the questions. I began to choke and my body contorted violently, but he did nothing. When the tears had finally subsided, I had little energy left, but as loudly as I could, I answered him.

"My name is Deirdre," I rasped. "What?" I swallowed and said again, "My name is Deirdre." This time I managed to look up defiantly at him. I found that his eyes no longer glowed and that his malice had softened, but he was just as bitter and unfeeling towards me as ever. "How did you get down here?" he whispered, he was still less than kind, but not quite as harsh as before and I was thankful for that small favor I received. I took a deep breath and tried to speak, "I was wandering down some hallways and found a mirror". My voice was hardly louder than the air around us, but I suppose he heard me because for a brief moment, his uncovered eyebrow shot up in surprise. I continued, "It was sort-a open so I pushed it farther open and I went through it. Then I went down this long hall and…" He held up a hand to make me stop. I swallowed and took a deep breath, "Don't you know that it isn't safe to go through mirrors?" He seemed to be in some kind of shock. I frowned, "No, I didn't. Why?" He sighed, "You mean to tell me you don't know about the Opera Ghost?" I shook my head. "No, not a clue. Who's the Opera Ghost? What does he have to do with the moving mirror?" His eyes bulged and he seemed ready to faint when he composed himself. "I am the Opera Ghost." I blinked, "Okay…is that supposed to mean something?" He glared at me, "Don't be insubordinate child". "I wasn't!" I protested, even if I didn't know what the word meant, I knew I wasn't being that. He sighed again and turned from me. "I am a phantom of this Opera House. It is mine and I take care of it, manage it, haunt it. I make sure that everything that happens is exactly what should happen." He turned to me with a feral, almost sad grin on his face, "I am also a murderer."

Now it was my turn to be in shock. _'He's a murderer! See? I told you you shouldn't have come down here, but did you listen to me? No…'_ My mind started squawking at me, but I paid it no heed, I was too concentrated on the Opera Ghost. I watched as his face changed when mine did, he didn't look over-bearing or deadly now, he looked like a sad, crippled man with a terrible life. Despite what he had done, not only to me, but to others, I felt a great surge of pity and concern for him. I bit my lip. "Sir?" I whispered, he looked away. "Sir?" I persisted softly. Finally he turned to me with a both sad and fearful look on his face. Gathering my courage, I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, "Sir, for whatever happened I'm sorry." I always apologized if I thought it would help, despite everything, I really did try to be a kind person. "If you like sir, I'd be happy to stay here with you." Well, actually, I sot-of wanted to stay here. He sounded like he needed some help, and it appeared that he hadn't had a friend in ages, so I figured, why not? He needs someone and so do you. He looked at me skeptically. "Child, did you not hear me clearly? I'm murderer." I smiled again, "I know, but you didn't kill me when you easily could have, so there must be some good in you." He seemed to think this over for a bit. "Do you already live in the opera?" I nodded. He frowned, "This is going to have to take a good explanation, but I'm sure that she can do it…" He said this more to himself than me, finally he looked up from his pondering. "Do you swear you won't run away when I untie you?" "Why would I do that? Of course I won't." "Very well then."

He got up from the chair he had been sitting in since I started crying and walked over to me. He pulled out a knife and cut my hands and feet loose. I rubbed my wrists and ankles, there were painful, red rope burns there. "Surry about that," he mumbled, tossing the rope aside. I smiled up at him gratefully. Getting to my feet, I bit my lip, "Sir?" "Yes?" He turned to me, as I had hoped. I leapt on him, in a ferocious hug. It must have been totally unexpected because it took him a moment to hug me back, but when he finally did I felt happier than I ever had in my life. I finally let go and he set me on the ground. "Um… I have to do something right now, so uh…just wait here until I get back, okay?" I nodded happily. He snatched up a black cloak and admired himself in a mirror for a moment before turning back to me. "And…uh…try not to touch anything." I was afraid he'd say that, but I nodded all the same. He gave me a genuine smile at my disappointment. "Don't worry, there'll be _lots_ to do when I get back." With that and a swirl of his cloak, he left. I smiled to myself and sat down on the floor. Pulling my knees up to my face, I waited until my new companion, and eventual brother, to return.


	9. And a Following?

Disclaimer: Errrr……………..I've got nothing for you guys today. I'm too tired to be clever. I own nothing, but now I have a copy of Leroux's book! Huzzah!

A/N: Between FF being dumb and not letting me log in and being really busy, I haven't really had time to write anything, sorry guys! I feel really bad, I'm sorry. Honest! I'm going to really try to do better I swear….I just have to find something inspiring now…

Evidently…I found something inspiring…

…Chapter 9…

As soon as he was out of sight, I got up and followed him. I wandered down a hall and went through an archway, I got so close to him, that I could hear the cloak swishing as he walked. I followed the sound to a dead end, and turning to my right, I saw him staring out of what appeared to be a two way mirror. I gasped, but clapped a hand over my mouth just in time. Luckily, he seemed to be too absorbed in what he was doing to hear me. However, I did here a small trembling voice coming from inside the room. It was a girls obviously, a soprano by the range she was using, and rather young as well, as her top notes were not quite masterful yet. She reached the height of the song in a great crescendo; he awaited the last note with baited breath. He was dying to hear its beauty, but then the voice faltered. "What is it? Why have you stopped? I know you can sing that note, you did it perfectly last night," The Phantom worriedly inquired whoever the voice belonged to. I edged closer to the mirror, trying to peer over his shoulder to get a look at the girl to see who it was. "I can't do it," she whimpered, "I can't do it without you singing with me…" "You must," he whispered. "This is not a duet and I will not be able to sing with you even if it was. If you want to be able to perform, you have to be able to sing alone." "Please, angel…" she sobbed, "Please, just this once, for me…" I had been expecting him to refuse her, after all, he said this was a solo, and she'd have to learn someday, but to my surprise he agreed. "Very well, then. From the beginning…" With that he began to sing the melody so harmoniously and so purely did he hit the notes that it seemed as if he was not human at all and was in fact an angel. I was momentarily entranced by his singular voice, when the girls joined shakily though; I slipped back into reality, but when her voice got stronger; I was astounded by the equal perfection and divinity of their combined voices. The song ended and the Phantom sighed, "Christine that was wonderful…now sing it again without me…" Having heard a name finally, I ransacked my memory hurriedly_, 'Christine…Christine…'_ I thought, _'There's got to be someone I met called Christine…'_ and then it hit me. _'Christine Daae, the young chorus girl!' _Madame Giry had pointed her out to me, as well as Meg. Realizing that my time here would soon be over, as the song was ending; I flew down hall after hall, as best as I could remember the way I came. At last, I ended up back at the lake, and the Phantom wasn't back yet! I sighed and sat down at the edge of the lake, dipping my feet in it. As hundreds of question swirled around my head, I tried hard not to think about it. I obviously couldn't ask any about what I'd just witnessed, or I'd be dead for sure, but I could ask others…like how he came to live here, or what his name was, or why he wore that mask! Oh, the big question…my imagination began to run away with me as I pondered. I sighed, giving up any logical reason why he would feel the need to disguise himself so. Being rather bored of silence, I began to try to sing. "Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping? Brother John, Brother John…" I trailed off, listening to the echo of my voice, it was quite nice, since I had never sung before. I continued, "All the bells are ringing, all the bells are ringing. Ding, dang dong. Ding dang dong." I smiled and splashed the water by kicking at it. Singing was fun! So I sang the song over and over again until I heard another voice join mine.


End file.
